Shadows on Your Walls
by Demon fritillary
Summary: Ryou, disturbed by the foreboding silence emanating from the Sennen Ring after Battle City, ventures into the soul room within, entering the domain of the usually lessthanhospitable Yami Bakura. Blood, OC death, angst, possible OOCness.
1. Room Beyond the Door

Title: Shadows on Your Walls – Chapter One

Author: Demon Fritillary

Date posted: 20th of December 05

Summary: Ryou, disturbed by the foreboding yet possessed silence emanating from the Sennen Ring after Battle City, ventures into the soul room within, entering the domain of the usually less-than -hospitable Yami Bakura.

Warnings: Nothing major that I can think of. Rating is purely for safety's sake, and for blood, mild (implied) torture, OC death, and general stressing of the characters around-about chapter 3 and onwards. Some OOCness, depending on your POV of the characters, and me going overboard on description. ;p

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or any of the characters for the aforementioned programme.

Notes: 'blah' is thoughts,"blah" is spoken out loud, _italics_ are memories and a change of scene.

_Onward!_

**_

* * *

_****1. Room Beyond the Door**

Feeling his feet touch solid ground, Ryou opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden bright lights of his soul room, a sharp contrast to the peaceful darkness of his bedroom outside. He'd been in here before, usually against his will, forced into the small quiet room while the door was locked and barred from the outside by the spirit of the ring, allowing the thief to take complete control of their shared body.

As Ryou padded bare foot across the carpeted floor, the door sensed his approach and swept open to allow passage, closing behind him as silently as it had opened, leaving Ryou in the shadow-strewn corridor beyond.

Ryou occasionally wondered who the corridor belonged to. The respective soul rooms on either side changed at the owner's will and command, reflecting emotions and personalities like a living mirror, but the corridor that lay between them was a kind of no-man's-land; it's lighting and appearance changing apparently on a whim, obeying neither Ryou nor the thief, following some mystical pattern of its own. Currently it was reminiscent of a window-less school hallway; waist-high picture rail running its length, vanishing quickly into the shadows in both directions as the pale green walls were lit only by two dim lamps hanging from the ceiling, one above each door.

Standing in the small circle of light afforded by his lamp, Ryou gathered his thoughts, trying to reconcile his fears with the reason of why he had come. Without giving his pillar of belief time to falter, he strode across the darkened floor and, placing the palms of his hands flat against the cold stone of the opposing door, he pushed hard, hoping that (as the door had no visible handle) it opened inwards as his did.

The door jerked, swinging open with surprising ease, causing Ryou to be flung into the room. Glancing quickly up from his hands and knees, wide hazel eyes scanned the room, fearing a sharp rebuke for daring to enter. But the silence continued peacefully.

Climbing to his feet, Ryou quietly took in the dark stone-walled passage before him; one that almost immediately vanished into the shadows, the only light trickling through the open doorway at his back.

A sweep of air behind him caused the boy to turn just in time to see the stone door swing shut, slamming with a dull thud and blocking all light from the room. But at the moment it closed, instead of being swallowed by the dark, Ryou found himself surrounded by a blinding light that stung his eyes and scorched his fair skin. Crouching and shielding his face with his hands, he peered between his fingers to try and make out the source of the rays. However, in dropping a slim hand to the ground to support himself, Ryou was distracted to find fine-grained sand beneath his trainers, its dry warmth soaking through the soles while the brilliant white rays of a glowing sun above radiated off the sands and into his down-turned face.

The scorching sands swept about him, scratching at his skin, burning his face and hands. Squinting against the light and turning his back on the blinding sun high above, Ryou scanned the scenery.

'Not that there is much scenery' he thought mournfully as the desert stretched away in all directions as far as the eye could see, flat, hot and barren: a disconcerting barrier to any thinking of crossing it.

'Maybe that's what it is; a barrier.'

Yugi had once mentioned the pharaoh's soul room contained a labyrinth of stairs, corridors and trick doors (with his true soul room in its depths) to trap unwanted trespassers.

'Perhaps this is Bakura's version of a trap; an endless desert.'

Ryou sighed 'Alright, so he doesn't want me to find him. But this isn't exactly much of a deterrent, he's done worse to me than put me in the middle of nowhere.'

Picking a direction at random (one where he wouldn't have to look into the blinding light of the sun) the teen wanders calmly into the sands. As he walked the wind failed and drifted by half-heartedly as if unsure what to do in the face of the hikari's uncharacteristic determination.

Ryou continued at a slow but steady pace for an uncharted length of time, though he suspected that no real time passed here anyway, determined by the thief's will alone. The heat of the mental desert was beginning to get to him, causing his thoughts to crawl sluggishly in the warmth, while his feet itched as sand crept through tiny holes in his trainers to scratch at his feet.

Crouching down to tighten the laces in the hope that it would prevent the entry of any more grains, Ryou let his eyes focus lazily on the ground a few inches from his foot. He blinked. Where glittering yellow sand had been in sloping dunes only a moment before, dry pale brown dirt now packed tightly to form a hard dry surface under his white trainers. Puzzled and surprised by the sudden change Ryou lifted his gaze to be met with a wall seemingly made of the same dried mud as the ground. Pushing himself up and away from the wall, he stared around at the new scene.

The desert had apparently faded away to be replaced by a town, the houses no more than simple huts made from a combination of mud brick and plaited thatch. Stepping into a larger street than the alley he had found himself in, Ryou began to explore waking between the silent structures. Many had no windows, only blank single-storey face with an open doorway in the centre and no roof except a thin woven material that reminded the teen of the old beach mats rolled up in his loft, gathering dust. There was dust here too, sandy yellow sprinkles that wafted across the deserted streets collecting in worn ruts of the wide dirt track between the houses.

The gentle breeze became still as the sun sank below the horizon, a cold chill seeping into his bones as the temperature dropped rapidly. Time seemed to speed up as the stars quickly spread over the darkening sky, heralding the on-coming night.

* * *

The moon rose; cold, pale and cruel in the deep blue. Night had fallen and the ghostly beams of light seared down from a cloudless sky. The abandoned village lay silent, a breathless hush seeping through the town; waiting and watching as a lonely figure stepped from the shadows to stand alone in the light, swathed in pale robes. His shoulder-length hair, bleached by nature and the desert sun to the colour of bone, hid his face in darkness: two bright slivers of light that gleamed in the shadowed face were the only suggestion that the creature had eyes or features of any kind.

As silently as he had appeared, his slim bare feet making no sound on the dusty earth, the figure moved slowly down the long main street, swaying slightly as he walked, as if in a trance or dream. At the far end of the street, a large structure made completely of stone (unlike the smaller peasant's huts) marked the town centre, its imposing façade edged with darker granite that had been polished until it gleamed, reflecting the moon's light into the face of the approaching figure and leaving the interior invisible in the darkness beyond the wide open doorway beneath the arches.

As he reached the rows of steps leading into the temple, he dipped his brow as if in recognition of the ancient place of worship, and without further pause, strode purposefully up the steps and vanished into the shadows beyond.


	2. Altar of the Temple

Title: Shadows on Your Walls – Chapter Two

Date posted: 20th of March 05

Chapter warnings: Spoilers, confusion & some religious references. Please note this supposed to be an AU, and therefore does not intend to give an accurate representation of ancient Egypt, nor follow the plot of the Egypt/Memory arc of Yugioh.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or any of the characters for the aforementioned programme.

Notes: Sorry this took bloody ages: the last paragraph or two gave me a lot of grief… still not really happy, but at least they're done. 'blah' is thoughts, "blah" is spoken out loud, _italics_ are memories and a change of scene.

* * *

Previous Chapter:

As silently as he had appeared, his slim bare feet making no sound on the dusty earth, the figure moved slowly down the long main street; swaying slightly as he walked, as if in a trance or dream. At the far end of the street, a large structure made completely of stone (unlike the smaller peasant's huts) marked the town centre, its imposing façade edged with darker granite that had been polished until it gleamed, reflecting the moon's light into the face of the approaching figure and leaving the interior invisible in the darkness beyond the wide open doorway beneath the arches.

As he reached the rows of steps leading into the temple, he dipped his brow as if in recognition of the ancient place of worship, and without further pause, strode purposefully up the steps and vanished into the shadows beyond.

* * *

2. Altar of the Temple

Hidden in the deepening shadows of a small hut, Ryou watched as the silent figure disappeared into the temple opening, beyond the great stone doors that hung wide, open and enticing.

The movement of this single living creature in the abandoned village drew Ryou like a moth to a flame, down the deserted street and swiftly up the stone steps where his form was soon swallowed by the darkness.

_Rays like knives seared through my skin, burning white to angry painful red, sharp splinters of sand slipping into the bindings round my feet and burning where they settled. Sweat, tears and grit flew into my eyes, blinding me as surely as the sun, from which I kept my head bowed as I ran. I had no need to see; I knew where I was going. A change from hard-packed dust and mud to warm smooth stone beneath my sandals alerted me to my surroundings. _

_I turned left onto the main street. Glancing up too late, I ran into what felt like a wall of flesh; a stallholder, screaming his wares, his price, calling out to faces in the crowd. In blank horror I stared as the man grunted from my impact with his back, waiting for him to turn and see me. _

_But Ptah(1) must have decided that the market was not to be interrupted and the man's hands merely shoved me away from his precious merchandise, his eyes never leaving the greedy customers swarming round the stall. I praised my luck and slipped round to the shadow-ridden wall, out of the searching eyes of Ra and his scalding rays, but not before snaffling a coarsely woven hessian bag from the stall packing supplies, half hidden beneath the bench on which the stall rested. _

_Finding a small tear in the fabric, I ripped down one side of the bag and pulled it over my head, the open side flapping around my face. Not comfortable nor really practical in the long term, but it would do for now._

_Hunched by the wall gathering my senses, I growled at my useless memory. How __could I have forgotten it was market day? And why had I not heard the market bustle as I approached? True, the shouts and sneers that had rung through my head were deafening, but I had prided myself upon never being surprised or easily wrong-footed. But as the memories of the jeers faded, I felt like kicking my own ankles for leading me to __the worse place possible, the one site where I least wanted, or needed to be right now without my kufiya(2). _

Ryou blinked and swayed as the sharp scents and bright daylight vanished again, returning him to the dark passages of the temple, leaving multi-coloured after-images flitting across his vision.

Trailing his fingers along an unseen left-hand wall to keep track of his progress within the temple, he hesitated and then removed his shoes, before venturing deeper into the dark, aware that even the rubber soles of his trainers would cause an echo in the silence that held the whole village in its thrall. Ahead there seemed to a pale light which he hastened towards.

Ryou gave a gasp and stumbled to a halt, scraping his now bare toes on the coldflagstones when the wall turned sharply away to the left, indicating an abrupt widening of the passage. Squinting to force his eyes to adjust to the dim light, he could faintly make out shapes at the far end of a seemingly enormous room, flanked on all sides by intricate carvings, statues of creatures part human and part animal: women with cow horns and men bearing the tails and heads of crocodiles instead of their own, moonlight shafting in through thin slits in the walls to pick out the stone forms.

'Gods', supplied his memory, 'Egyptian Gods. Not really surprising if this place has anything to do with the Spirit of the Ring, it's his world after all, although I wouldn't have thought he was particularly religious considering his chosen occupation.'

'Not much to steal either,' Ryou thought to himself, padding softly down between the low columns lining the walls. 'It seems completely bare apart from the statues.' His steps slowed as the teen reached the far end of the temple for, outlined by the ghostly light seeping through the thin slit-like windows, a block of cold stone was raised waist-high above the floor, bearing two rough hewn candles of dark waxy yellow tallow; the flames small and faint in the windless dark, flickering gently over the worn, ornate cloth of deep crimson that was draped over the stone, spilling down the sides to the floor. And crouched beside the shrouded alter, bathed in the cold moonlight was a child, no more than nine or ten years of age, head bowed so that the pale forehead rested against the cloth at altar's front. Silver-white hair tumbled down to brush against the thin shoulders and small bare feet - the soles dark with the dust of the streets and toughened by the harsh sands - poked out from under the hem of the broad sheet of stone-washed cloth wound round the slim body.

As Ryou stared in silence, frozen by this picture, the faintest breath was heard and the figure knelt at the altar shifted, one pale hand rising to grip the altar cover, and Ryou gasped as metal glinted in the moonlight. Hearing the noise the child twisted sharply on his knees, hands clenched and raised, half-turning to face the intruder on his solitude. Ryou simply stared into the child's eyes; lost in the crimson depths, for the wide eyes were the same shade as the blood-stained blade clutched in the small hand that still fingered the cloth upon the altar, as if ensuring the world was not slipping away in the night.

END CHAPTER

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Asterisks:

'Ptah' – Egyptian God of artisans, farmers, builders and tradesmen… so pretty much all male peasants in ancient Egypt: had his work cut out didn't he?

'Kufiya' – Type of arabic headdress, worn either as a turban or loosely tied round the crown of the head (using a rope or cord called an 'egal') to protect the back of the neck from sunburn. Heh, think Laurence of Arabia. Sometimes spelt 'keffiyeh', but pronounced (I'm told) more like the previous spelling. Anyone who's seen the manga will know the kinda thing I'm thinking of.


	3. Faces in the Flames

Title - shadows on your walls: chapter 3  
DF doesnt own yugioh or any of the characters herein. If she did, the tombrobber would get to win all his duels and rule the world, because he deserves it. ku ku ku.

I apologise for the time delay.. hasnt it been nearly a year? I had the end and various other bits of this done ages ago, but then the computer crashed and wiped itself and lots of horrificly time-wasting stuff just gotin the way (including an all-consuming DeathNote obsession). I'm finally bak to finish this though as I was scribbling away at it on a train and it suddenly just wrote itself. the shadow-plotbuny has awakened after its hibernation :) enjoy.

_italics_ are memories, otherwise its in the 'present'. a line divider is a change of scene or time frame. This fic warrants an AU and blood warning.

* * *

**_3. Faces in the Flames _**

_The missionary priests gathered large crowds in the centre of many towns, and Kuru Esuna(1), despite its reputation, was no exception; I had often seen men in robes preaching before the temple gates of the glories of service to Pharaoh, master and country; they appealed to our 'better natures' and our faith. They told the children that always edged to the front of such gatherings that there was no greater honour than to serve the Lord of all Egypt, and that to die in protection of your country would earn the name of the lowest peasant a place in the cherished afterlife._

_As a child I listened intently to the magnificent tales the accompanying soldiers told of glory and blood upon the battlefields. However, as I grew, my ears turned cynical of what they said, for I had heard the thieves, the looters and the deserters speak too, when they slipped through the streets and lurked in the darkened watering holes of our town. Like their officers, they told of blood and murder upon the fields, but also of pain, filth and starvation, of the incompetence and cruelty of leaders, and whispered to inquisitive ears that honour can be bought or stolen; a life cannot. _

_Now I climbed the worn steps of the temple, slipping from each patch of shade to the next, hoping to avoid being seen, although I was much less recognisable as the demon-child with my face bowed and bone-white hair covered. White and red have always been the colours of death and suffering in Egypt: the tones of sun-bleached, infertile land and the stain of dried blood have marred my features since the day I was born(2) and so I was cursed. This I know, and thus Seth, the Devourer, follows me wherever my feet may lead. _

_Creeping into the silent depths of the temple long deserted by any followers, I entered the nave of the main hall and settled in the warm beam of sunlight that filtered down from the high slits in the west wall. It was always peaceful here, and I knew I would remain undisturbed curled behind the altar-stone, for none of those who threw sticks and stones at the 'Demon-child' would think that such a being would willingly chose to hide in a former place of worship, whether abandoned or not.

* * *

_

_I was woken some hours later by a tramping of booted feet across the paving slabs. _

_'No-one. They'd probably burst into flames if they set foot in here, Godless people that they are.' A snort of agreement, and the feet, after a brief and inefficient tour of the nave, moved back towards the entrance, the owners pulling the heavy doors to after them. _

_I sat for a few moments, considering the voices I had just heard, before deciding that whoever the strange gruff speakers had been, they would be well out of the temple by now. I would escape while I could in case they returned and punished me for treating a place of worship so casually (although part of me wondered at theur own seemingly lax attitude toward the templehouse). I crept out from where I lay half under the altar cloth and realised I had slept onger than I thought; the altar candles burned low in the near-darkness, filling the temple with sinister-looking flickering shadows as the sun had sunk below the horizon some hours ago. Walking as silently as I could, I slipped over the cold stone, and retraced my steps back to the entrance. _

_A strange smell that stung my nostrils drifted down the dark passage as I walked. It smelt mainly of woodsmoke but with an unfamiliar bitter tang that made me want to spit as the smell of the smoke crept down my throat. I slowed my steps as I neared the main outer door, and hesitated. I had never seen the doors moved before; they stood constantly open as a symbol of the welcoming arms of the gods, and yet now they had been pulled to, with only a crack of hazy light shining between them. The beam was tainted a deep scarlet and I paused as more noises, as of a busy street, came to me through the crack, though the market should have finished with the sunset. A sense of dread came upon me and I suddenly felt trapped behind the heavy doors. I set my shoulder to the nearest one and pushed hard. _

Ryou gasped in pain and clutched his head, his legs buckling beneath him. The temple walls seemed to vanish, giving a clear view of the dark street outside. But the hard sand between the houses was no-longer empty, nor lit only by moonlight. Flames leapt and sprawled in the night, great tongues of dragons and demons curling up in pillars of orange, gold and ruby high above, dancing and flickering on the walls. Two great burning pyres had been lit in the central street and the fires swayed to the beat of drums and hands, as twisting figures chanted to the flames.

_Terrible writhing shapes and demons flitted before my eyes, rampant in the flames. The wild dancing of the shadows on the mud brick walls behind me and all around seemed to echo the shrieks of the priests; the chants that rose in pitch as they progressed, piercing through the night and summoning the Gods to witness what horrors had been wrought in their name and to praise the faithful followers for their devotion. _

The flames of the funeral pyres roared, red as the blood they consumed, closer and closer, choking and blinding Ryou with their suffocating heat. As he sank to the ground, The shadows clawed at Ryou's hair and clothes, seeming to leap from the walls to drag the sobbing boy from his arms while other twisted shapes danced wildly, grotesque in their formlessness.

_I hid from the fear at the deaths of all those I knew: my mother, father, uncles and baby sister, whose bodies now fed the leaping flames. I covered my ears to the blood-soaked cries and yet still they lured me; the high Priests' haunting calls clamoured in my ears that this was our purpose; the existence of Kuru Esuna itself and that all its inhabitants had always been destined for the swords of the pharaoh's men. It seemed they called to me now, to resign my soul to its rightful place and my mortal body to the hands of the priests and their great cleansing rite. _

_My heart shied away however and I concealed myself deeper in the shadows_.

* * *

Ryou clung to the smaller form, burying his face in the matted hair to shield against the raging fires as the child writhed in his arms, sobbing now. The ground under his knees suddenly shuddered and split as if in an earthquake, and Ryou flung out an arm to catch hold of something – anything – to pull himself to his feet, on the verge of panic. His outstretched arm swung round in empty air before colliding with an object that responded with a metallic clang before toppling over. The pair were plunged into darkness as the fallen candlestick's flame went out, the other candles having already been extinguished, leaving only the thin beam of pale moonlight through the slit window to cast its ghostly light on the stone temple floor. 

The child made a muffled noise and entwined bloodstained fingers in the folds of Ryou's shirtsleeves, tears still streaming down the flushed cheeks.

Ryou suddenly felt sick, his head still swimming from the stench of the blood soaked sands. He wanted out, wanted his own safe soul room, with its warm fire and plush carpet, its memories locked away where the blood and pain and sorrow couldn't hurt him.

Searching his mind, Ryou reached out for his home, mental strands twisting round the thread of his soul room. He clung to the vision, feeling its reassuring pull, as he was swept away from the burning crimson sand and its abandoned temple, to settle once again in the familiar peaceful warmth. He slumped against the side of the bed, only to feel a gentle tug on his shirt. Looking down at the crown of ivory hair, Ryou could feel warm tears seeping through to his skin. Helplessly, he let his hands come up to hold the smaller boy, one arm wrapping round thin shoulders while the other cradled his head, fingers smoothing the tangled white locks.

'It's alright.' Ryou looked carefully round at the shadows on the walls of his own soul room, dancing in the light of the small fire in the grate. But the movement was no longer threatening; the gentle curves of silky grey merely swaying to a silent lullaby.

'It's alright,' he repeated, with more confidence. 'Don't cry, you'll be okay. They won't find you here. Don't cry.'

END - c'est finis ;)

* * *

Asterisks: 1)"kuru esuna" - i cant for the lfe of me remember what the tombrobber's village was called, apart from Theif Town (in the horrifically bad dub) so I've made up a name.  
2)"white and red" – in the original manga Egypt arc, the Tombrobber is shown with white hair and red eyes. I've kept this as his colouring because it's my fic and I think it suits him. :p

Anyone who's confused as to WTF happened there can email me about it. I'm not sure how clear this is towards the end, especially if you haven't been thinking about this for as long as I have. incase anyone was wondering about the relevance of the title:

_(But) you see, I'm told that the place that you long for  
Is where the shadows won't dance on your walls anymore  
Where the nightmares will leave you alone_

_I'll keep the lights out, I'll tell you fairy tales  
Whatever it takes to make you feel safe  
I promise you now, they will disappear  
I'll take you back home, they won't find you here _

Lene Marlin – extract from 'Whatever It Takes' xxxxxx


End file.
